YouLoveMe

  We the people have power. They will always try to separate us,  To convince us we are different, We need to resist them to create us. I am often dismissed as a dreamer, There is power in our coming together,  The world is a dark and cold place, A shadow unacknowledged is a tether. The work must always start from within, What is the fuel that makes your light shine? The light of the chalice is indeterminate, Love's messiness is the light that's mine. I interviewed refugeess from Burma's civil war, I had the privilege to go home, It's impossible to live without doing harm, I wished I could say I solved their troubles with an Om, So my friends I want to ask you, Will you let your fear keep you silent? Or will you speak out and act        against what is cruel and violent? The young man speaking is like my mother. He believes in the satanic and the divine. A faith that never was and I thought never would be mine.   Today it feels just fine.

Peacefully I resolve to end my days, I'll take quiet action against the blight, It's better to fade away than to blaze. In a Swiss meadow I'll soak up Sol's rays, With my wife I'll hold hands, watch stars at night, Peacefully I resolve to end my days. I will stay calm, not give voice to the nays, Only my family will know of my plight, It's better to fade away than to blaze, With young Hans I'll watch Settembrini's plays, In the clinic my sweet life will take flight, Peacefully I resolve to end my days. My anger could eat the Alps, drink up bays, I will bottle it up, hold rage in tight, It's better to fade away than to blaze. Oh mother, please read to me from your chaise, Your gentled voice once made my life go right, Peacefully I resolve to end my days, It's better to fade away than to blaze. 

In another life I am a patron, I endow a museum, the Kennedy, I'm its slim-legged mistress and matron, It has oils and songs, frames and threnody. I'm a didactic cuss like Alfred Barnes, I teach test prep and critical theory, A gallery features Jeff Koons and Kim Carnes, I stay up nights to answer each query. I look like Isabella Stewart Gardner, In my sexy wasp-waisted velvet gown, I make guests welcome, say Howdy, pardner! I'm a skilled boss like Frick, I run the town. Like Frick I have a boss who pulls my cart,  His was Andrew Carnegie, mine is Sartre.

My brother was just thirteen months younger, When I first saw him, I gave him a toy, That feeling was as real as my hunger    for him to go, for Me to be The Boy.    I know he validly resented me, I dare to believe that he loved me, too, Just as fellow feeling incented me, I believe in him it was just as true. I dislike the Battle of the Sexes, Where higher payoffs go to leaders, That mistakes the hierarchical nexus, For hierarchs as takers, greedy feeders. In love and in battle with my brother, I learned the ways of the junior Other.

It was an off'ring to the King of Kings, To the One God who is standards and rules, Who gives it all away, who wears gold rings, Who lives inside us all, who suffers fools. Put less grandly, it was my tenure piece, Written before the rise of CLS, My gift of diamonds, incense, myrrh, and grease, To an immanent God I mostly bless. I think Sartre's waiter is pretty much fine, Likewise the teller Peter worried o'er, We play with God in ways mostly condign, Jeff Sacks is wrong--there was wealth in the poor. Hierarchy's bad, but its suff'rers prevail, The self is a garden more than az jail. 6tcc6 5s